


Even the Darkness Has Arms

by Riprap, Riprapcap (Riprap)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1930s, Angst, Angst and Feels, Artist Steve Rogers, Boys In Love, Bucky Barnes Feels, First Dance, First Dates, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), My First Fanfic, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Slash, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Feels, Stucky - Freeform, please be kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2020-12-28 10:01:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21134882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riprap/pseuds/Riprap, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riprap/pseuds/Riprapcap
Summary: Bucky's in love. Steve's oblivious. You know how it goes.





	1. The Tightrope Walker

All afternoon, Bucky had been restless, pacing and fidgeting and sighing. Every sound, every movement pulled Steve out of his quiet concentration, but now, finally, Bucky sat quietly at the opposite end of the sofa, reading. Steve returned to drawing. The soft scratches of his pencil blended with the occasional voice from the open window and a Sunday afternoon haze settled over the living room. 

Bucky sighed and shifted. Steve glared.

“Steve."

"Yeah?"

“What are you doing?

"The same thing I was doing the last time you asked."

"Oh."

Steve kept sketching the window frame and the skyline within it.

“Steve?”

Steve sighed. “What?”

"What are you drawing?"

"Skyline out the window."

They lapsed into silence.

"Steve-"

“My God, you're like a five-year-old this afternoon. Look at ME, Steve! Talk to ME, Steve!"

Bucky bounced up and down, trying to get a smile out of him. “Play with ME! Draw ME!” He stopped bouncing. “That’s not a bad idea. You draw, I get attention.” He carefully arranged himself with his legs crossed and his head leaned against his fist, book at the ready. “How’s this?”

“Fine. But you’ve got to hold still.” He worked fast because he could see the energy building in Bucky, and was not surprised when a scant few minutes later, he flung his arms across the back of the couch and stretched his legs. Steve sighed and flipped his page.

“I’m sorry.”

“Let me know when you’ve decided to settle down,” he chided. “I assume it will be around the time hell freezes.”

"One day I am going to settle down and then won’t you be surprised?” Bucky said.

Steve snorted. “What, like get married?”

“Yeah. Happily ever after. That sort of thing. Don’t you want to spend your life with someone?"

“Who’s going to marry me? I’m not exactly husband material.”

“Maybe if you’d smile every once in a while, or, you know, talk to a girl….”

Steve shoved his foot at Bucky’s leg. “Can it, jerk. I’m not having this conversation today.” 

Bucky chuckled. Steve returned to his landscape.

“Got your eye on someone, then?" he asked.

"Me? NO. Are you nuts?" Bucky shook his head.

"You were the one that brought it up."

"I mean, in general, maybe….”

“You've dated half of Brooklyn. You're bound to have someone in mind."

Bucky looked shocked. "Are you suggesting I'm some Lothario?"

"It ain't a suggestion, pal." He gave a wry smile as Bucky swept his hair back.

“I cannot help that I was blessed with charm and good looks.”

"There's no one special?" he teased.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck as a hint of pink creeped over his cheek.

Steve gasped. “There is!” he crowed. “Bucky Barnes is in love!”

Bucky threw a pillow at him. “So what if I am?”

“Are you sitting in a tree?” Steve whacked him with the pillow. “Are you k-i-s-s-i-n-g?”

Bucky snatched it back. “Stop hitting me with that thing, will you?”

“C’mon. Spill it.”

“Not if you are going to make fun of me!”

Steve made his face serious. “I won’t make fun.” 

Bucky glanced over at him and frowned. “Promise.” 

“I swear. Unless you say Edna Spraberry. Then I will make fun.”

“If it was Edna, I’d let you make fun.” Edna had been 29 for at least four years and flirted with any guy over 16 without mercy.

Steve waited expectantly.

“Fine, I’ll tell you,” Bucky said, his voice reverent. “Gold. I think of gold....golden hair and bright eyes. And this smile that'll stop you dead in your tracks, and it just comes out of nowhere. Like you're just talking, you know, and then you say something funny and wham! The sun is shining in your face.” 

Bucky’s whole face softened. “And a heart to match,” he continued. “Kind, generous. Talks to the people no one else notices. Does nice things for people not looking for any reward or recognition. Being around ‘em makes me want to be a better person."

Steve drew the flush of Bucky’s cheek, the gentle curve of his mouth, trying to perfect the far away look in his eyes. 

“But won’t let anyone take advantage of that kindness.Won’t take nothing off of nobody. Stubborn as hell too, which isn’t always a good thing.” Bucky shook his head. “Sometimes, though, I wish I had that kind of conviction, the kind that just won’t let you back down, no matter what.”

Steve wanted him to keep talking so he could finish the drawing. “How’d you meet?”

“Grew up with ‘em. Couple of years ago, though, it’s like I finally SAW.”

“You’ve felt like this for years?”

Bucky grinned sheepishly and ducked his head. “And not even been on a date. Ridiculous, right? But this isn’t...it isn’t just some Friday night fling. I just...can’t imagine what I have to offer.”

Steve put his pad and pencil down at that. “Are you kidding? Everything! You’re fun and spontaneous. I never know what’s going to happen when we do stuff together and it’s great. Being with you is like being on a big adventure.” 

“So I’m a good time. So what?”

“And you’re the smartest person I know. Always reading and you tell the best stories. And you love all that new science technology. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up merged with a machine one day.”

“Lots of people are smart. Lots of people read.”

Steve paused and thought for a minute, wanting his words to be just right. When he finally spoke, his voice was resonant and sure. “You listen to people. You make them feel like you're glad to be in the world at the same time they are. Like they're important. They're worth something.” 

Bucky had stilled for the first time that afternoon, more fragile that peaceful, like one small sound might break him open. 

“How do you know?” He looked over at Steve. “How do you know I make people feel like that?”

Because that’s how you make me feel, he thought to himself. “I watch people react to you. Hear what they say.” 

Bucky half smiled and dropped his head. Steve hugged his sketchpad to his chest, suddenly aware he had gotten close to something deep and profound. 

"She must be something to have you this worked up.”

“Yeah.” Bucky stared out the window, not moving. 

Steve knew something had shifted, but he didn’t know what exactly. He went back to sketching buildings and soon drifted into the flow of lines into shapes into space. For a while, the only sound was the scratch of Steve’s pencil and the wind blowing softly through the window.

“What if it wasn’t a she?” Bucky’s voice annoyed him, cut through his calm.

“Then it would be a he.” he said, not looking up from his work. 

"I'm not saying it is a he...a guy, I mean--" Steve heard the strain in Bucky’s voice and glanced over. He had tucked his knees under his chin, arms tight around his legs, eyes wide with worry. With fear. It was how he used to sit when they were young and Steve was sick.

“If it is a guy,” Steve said, “then he’d be the luckiest guy in the world.” Bucky ducked his head. When he finally spoke, his words were muffled.

“I’m a pervert.”

“No.”

“A deviant.”

“Stop it--”

“A freak.”

“Because you love someone? No,” Steve said firmly. “There's nothing wrong with that.” 

“That’s not what everyone else thinks.”

“Everyone else can go to hell, then.” 

“Just...you don't have to...”

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s the rest of the world that’s got a problem. Not you.” 

Bucky swallowed hard and blinked. Steve tossed his sketchbook onto the table.

“Look at me.” Bucky turned his head, eyes red and shaded, and Steve reached for his shoulder. “It doesn’t change anything. Ok?”

Bucky nodded and took a ragged breath. Steve shoved him. 

“I’m just glad it’s not that girl you took out last week.”

“Marilyn. She was fine till she started talking.”

“God, that voice. It’s still in my nightmares.”

They both laughed, let the sound fill the room and fade.

“I’d understand if you, you know, didn’t want to live here or--”

“No way you’re getting rid of me that easy,” Steve said. “Besides, we gotta figure out how to get you a date with this Golden Boy.”

“I don’t even know if he’s interested in guys.”

“One way to find out.”

“I can’t. I can’t!” Bucky sat up straight and Steve recognized that panicked look. It was the same look Steve usually had on the way to yet another double date.

“Ok, why? Are you afraid he’s going to rat you out?”

“No, he would never do that. Never.” 

“What are you afraid is going to happen then?”

“I’m afraid...if he finds out I think about him that way, he’s going to say he can’t be friends with me anymore, that he never wants to talk to me again.” He hugged himself tightly. “I couldn’t take that.”

Steve nodded. “He could say that. On the other hand, he could say what a coincidence! I’ve been sweet on you since we first met!” 

"Yeah, I guess he could.” Bucky loosened his arms and stretched his back. “Still risky, though.”

“Maybe he’s worth the risk.”

It pained him to say it. He wanted goodness and happiness for Bucky. He really did. But part of him didn’t want him to find anyone to love, because then he’d leave and Steve would be on his own. He’d never been without Bucky. Never had to come home to an empty apartment or eat alone if he didn’t want to. He’d always known it was just a matter of time, though, before all of that changed.

“Hey, Steve?” Bucky’s voice snapped him back to the present. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you think…” Bucky looked like he was going to say something difficult, and it made Steve a little nervous. “Let’s walk to the store. I’m starved and there’s nothing to eat.”

Steve let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Yeah, ok. Lemme get my shoes.” Steve padded toward the back of the house, glancing back to see Bucky, head in his hands. His chest squeezed at the sight and he thought he might comfort him, but wasn’t sure how. He turned away and walked to his room.

*************************************************************************************************************

The next few days passed in their familiar pattern. They worked, they ate, they joked, they slept. Wednesday night, Steve sat at the kitchen table, sewing a button back on his shirt, when Bucky appeared in the door.

“I been thinking about what you said the other night.” Bucky shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “About talking to the guy. And I think that-”

“You're gonna do it?”

“Actually, that’s what I--”

“What are you gonna say?

“Well, I was wondering if--”

“Would it help if you practiced on me first?”

“Steve would you shut up a minute and listen!”

Steve sat down and shut up. Bucky took a deep breath.

“I was wondering if you...I mean would you maybe want…would you let me take you out dancing Friday night but you don't have to dance if you don't want we can just listen to the music. If you want.”

“That sounds real good, Buck,” Steve nodded. Bucky’s smile crept across his face and his eyes started to light up. “Slow down a little, though. You were kinda hard to follow towards the end.” Bucky’s face went slack.

“Steve, you idiot!” Bucky exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table. Steve jumped.

“What? I said it sounded good! It does!”

“I’m not...Jesus Christ.” Bucky pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. “I’m not practicing with you, alright? I’m asking! Will you, Steve, let me, Bucky, take you out Friday night?”

“You're asking…" Steve's eyes widened. "But what about the guy you were talking about the other night?"

“To be the smartest guy I know, you’re awful thick sometimes.” Bucky laughed. “You are the guy I was talking about.” 

Steve got very still and chewed his lip. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s voice was getting softer. “It's nuts, I know. Like I said before, I don’t know if you even like guys. Probably should have asked that first.” A shiver ran down Steve’s spine when Bucky’s chair legs scraped the floor. “Glad to know I wasn’t being too obvious. I thought I’d given myself away by now.” He stared out the window.

Steve said nothing. He was far away, playing back what Bucky had said the other night and knowing it was about him. He felt a flicker of warm in his stomach and tamped it down quickly.

“Steve? Isn't this the part where you say you're sweet on me too?”

“I need to think.”

The hope in Bucky’s eyes flickered into panic, then to horror. “We can just forget it, forget I ever said anything.”

Steve jumped up as Bucky turned to leave. “Wait! I’m not saying no.”

“Not yet.”

Steve caught his arm. “I just need a minute."

Bucky’s eyes glittered. "You don't have to worry about letting me down easy."

Steve wanted to shake him. "You’ve been thinking about this for a while. Give me a few minutes at least, you jerk.” He squeezed his arm gently.

“Five minutes." Bucky tried to smile.

"Ten."

"Seven."

"Done." 

Bucky moved to leave, but Steve held on.

"I'm not saying no."

Bucky nodded and walked towards the back. “7 minutes. I’m keeping time,” he called back, strained but steady. Steve heard the window go up and Bucky’s shoes on the fire escape.

Steve didn’t like to consider his future too often. He knew what it looked like. Bucky would find a girl and get married and Steve would be the best man. Then they would have children and Steve would be the godfather and always be invited for Sunday dinner. And then he would return to his small apartment, sized just for him and maybe a cat. 

He knew, too, that he would die young, way before any person he married, way before Bucky. Maybe, once he knew Bucky was squared away, happy, married, he would end things himself. What was the point of continuing to live alone, in pain? Might as well stop the suffering.

But now, Bucky had changed all of that with one question, and Steve didn't know what to think.

Steve had kept the idea of spending his life with Bucky at a distance for so long, it was difficult to hold in his head now. Every once in a while, as they walked to meet yet another pair of girls, he let himself think about what it would be like to be Bucky’s date. On particularly hard days, when the cold made his joints ache and he could barely stand up, he thought about laying on the sofa, head on Bucky’s lap, and Bucky reading to him while his fingers combed through his hair. And sometimes, deep in the night, when he couldn’t breath and he couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t seem to think about anything but his own death, he allowed his mind to wander to Bucky’s arms around him, Bucky’s body warm against his, Bucky’s soft whispers of comfort to lull him to sleep.

But he had always stopped himself short, furious for even entertaining such impossibilities, and he would lock those thoughts and feelings behind his fortress walls. 

He knew Bucky loved him, fiercely and stubbornly, but he had never considered the possibility that Bucky was in love with him. It seemed absurd. He was a sickly artist with little future. Bucky could have anyone, male, female or in between. 

Even now, replaying Bucky’s words in his head, he couldn’t bring himself to trust them. He could only imagine what would happen when things went wrong. When it didn’t work out, would Bucky kick him out of the apartment? Out of his life? When it turned out he was a terrible kisser, would Bucky laugh and turn him loose? When Bucky realized just how angry he got, just how impulsive he was, would he be able to stand him anymore?

He should say no and be done with it.

But Bucky’s face when he thought Steve had said yes. His eyes when he realized Steve hadn’t. He didn’t think he could say no and watch all of that joy drain away again.

He’d just have to ask the questions and let Bucky talk himself out of it. 

*************************************************************************************************************

Steve stuck his head out of the window. “Can we talk?”

“Sure, yeah.” 

He crawled out and settled next to Bucky.

“What if we do this and it doesn’t work?”

"Jesus, would it kill you to beat around the bush every once in a while?” Bucky's laugh was sharp. “It’s one date.”

“Bullshit. If what you said the other night is true, it’s more than that.” 

Bucky stayed quiet.

"Am I wrong? Did I misunderstand?"

"No. You’re not wrong." Bucky gathered his knees to his chest again. “I don’t know what happens if it doesn’t work. I only know that I can’t keep going out on dates with people I’m not interested in and ignoring how I feel about you. If we do this and if you decide I’m not the one for you, then I’ll deal with it. But at least I’ll know.”

“What if you figure out I’m not the one for you?”

“Nope. No way.” Bucky waved the idea off.

“That’s a stupid way to go into this. There could be a million things you hate about me.”

“Like what?”

"Ok. What if you hate the way I kiss?”

“Then I’ll teach you.”

“What if I want to take things slow?”

“I’ve waited this long.”

"Because I might want to take things slower than you’re used to. Physically, I mean."

"I’ll ask before I do anything. I’ll even ask before I hold your hand”

“And if I say no?”

Bucky gave him a quizzical glance. “Then we won’t hold hands…?”

“Promise?”

“Good Lord, Steve! You think I go around forcing myself on people?”

“No! I don’t...I don’t want you to think that just because I’m not throwing myself at you I’m not interested.” Steve burned with indignation. “I don’t want you to drop me because I’m not ready to jump in bed with you!” 

“First off, no one has ever jumped into bed with me. Or me with them.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s true. I’d be making out with someone and then suddenly think, ‘Oh, you aren’t Steve.’ And that would be it. I wasn’t interested anymore.” He shrugged.

Steve shoved him. “Dumbass.”

“Second, I promise to ask before I touch you in any way. If you say no, that’s the end of it. Doesn’t mean I won’t ask again later, but if the answer is still no, that’s fine.” 

“Ok.” Steve nodded. He rubbed absently the back of his hand, his brow furrowed in thought. Bucky waited.

“The other night. When you were talking about The Guy...about me…” 

Bucky nodded.

“I’m not that person you think I am. I want to be, but I’m not. Lots of times I know I would have really hurt someone, bad, if I could have. I get so angry and I do dumb shit without thinking. I ignore good, well-meaning advice because I’m too stubborn to give in.” Steve tightened his fist. ”I’m not courageous or smart or any of those things. I’m just an idiot who doesn’t know how to walk away.” Steve dropped his head and willed the water in his eyes not to spill over. 

“You think I don’t know that?” Bucky laughed softly. “I know, probably better than anyone else, what a stubborn little shit you can be. But I know all the good stuff too.”

“You’re gonna realize I’m just another asshole, and I’ll lose you completely.”

“You’re not going to lose me, not now, not ever. You’re stuck with me until you push me out the door.” 

Steve smiled wanly and dragged his hand across his eyes. Bucky moved closer to him, knee touching his. “I knew you were special the second I met you. Dating you or not dating you won't change that. Nothing will.”

Steve gulped in the cool night. He knew he should say no. This would end up a mess and he should spare them both. But he wanted to go. He wanted to hold Bucky’s hand and sit close and listen to music, the way he’d imagined. He wanted to have the same look about him that those girls on their double dates did, dazed and delighted. He wanted to know what it was like to be valued and cared for like something rare and precious, even if it was just one time. He took a deep breath.

“Ask me again.”

“Will you go out with me Friday?”

“Yeah. I will.”

Bucky grinned wide enough to light up Brooklyn. 

“But you better be on your best behaviour,” Steve warned. “Don’t try putting your hand up my skirt or nothing.”

“So you’re wearing a skirt?” His eyes sparkled.

“You big dummy.”

“I’ll meet you in the living room at 7pm.”


	2. If I Have, I Have For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky takes Steve out. Steve has to convince himself he deserves it.
> 
> I'm terrible at summaries.

That Friday night, at 6:59 sharp, Steve stepped out of his room. He paused to watch Bucky tug at the cuffs of his shirt, and smooth his tie, all the time humming tunelessly.

“Stop worrying. You look fine,” Steve said.

“Fine? I spent an hour getting ready just to look fine?”

"Actually, you look great."

“Yeah, I do,” Bucky said with a wink. “And so you do.” 

Steve looked down at the white shirt and navy pants he’d put on. “I look the same as always.”

“Can’t fool me. That’s your best shirt, your shoes are shined, and did you put pomade in your hair?” Bucky grinned and took Steve in, slowly, from toe to head. His smile turned wolfish. “You look good enough to eat.”

Steve gave him a pointed look. “How’s that line usually work for you?”

“About that well.” Bucky laughed and swung his coat on. “Ready?”

“Yeah, I just need my jacket.”

“I’ll get it.” Bucky stepped in front of him and snatched his jacked off the hook, helping Steve into it.

“Um, thanks.”

Bucky jumped to open the door first, ushering Steve out. At the bottom of the stairs, they turned to the right, towards their favourite diner. The weather was nice, fading sun and crisp air, so the neighbourhood was lively. Mothers sat on the stoops with babies on their laps, watching the older kids chase each other down the sidewalk. Grandmothers called to one another out of windows. A group of old men grumbled about the state of the world and young people today as Bucky and Steve walked by.

It was almost like any other Friday night, except Steve wasn’t dreading a date and Bucky wasn’t trying to build him up to it. Instead, all of Bucky’s energy was focused on him. He chattered and laughed and peppered him with questions, even ones he knew the answers to. It was like being at the center of the carousel with Bucky spinning around him.

“Did you take something this afternoon?”

Bucky laughed. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day. Hell, all week. For months."

“Me too. Not months. Just all day.” Steve shoved his hands into his pockets, cursing under his breath. 

Bucky bumped his shoulder and dropped his voice. “You don’t have to worry about impressing me, Steve. I’m already impressed. I just want to have a good time with you, so relax, ok?”

“Yeah, ok.”

They stopped in front of a diner.

“Might I interested you in a sandwich and coffee?” Bucky didn’t wait for an answer and shuffled Steve into the diner. He hung his coat on the rack by the door and quickly took Steve’s jacket.

“I’ve got it,” he said, hanging it next to his.

They settled into a booth and looked at the paper menus. Steve groaned inwardly. He was trying to figure out how to afford both coffee and food when the waitress appeared. 

“Hello, Jo,” said Bucky, reading the name embroidered on her blue uniform. “How are you tonight?”

Jo was not taken in by Bucky’s charm. “The special tonight is tomato soup and grilled cheese. What can I get you two?”

"Two specials and two coffees, please." Bucky was still trying to win her over.

"Wait, I think--" Steve interrupted

“We should have pie too? You're right." Bucky looked back at Jo. "And two slices of chocolate pie. If it isn’t too much trouble." Bucky flashed his hundred watt smile. She looked at him stone faced and walked off.

"Wow. She’s a hard nut to crack."

"Buck, I didn’t bring much cash."

"It’s on me."

"I can pay you back--”

"Nope.” 

Steve started to protest. 

“It’s not up for discussion.” Bucky’s words were sharp. 

"Fine," Steve huffed. "If it means that much to you."

"It does."

Steve felt the knot between his shoulders tighten. Jo showed up and plunked mugs of coffee on the table. He immediately started pouring sugar into his as his mind raced. He wanted to tell Bucky how he had been looking forward to this all week, smiling like an idiot whenever he’d thought about it. How yes, he had worn his best shirt on purpose and shined his shoes because this was important to him and he wanted Bucky to know it. How his fingers tingled and his stomach leapt every time he thought about being Bucky’s date instead of his sidekick. 

He opened his mouth to tell him, but couldn’t say the words.

"Sugar?" he offered instead.

"Yes, honey?" Bucky said brightly. 

Steve rolled his eyes. "Do you want sugar for your coffee?”

"No, I'm sweet enough already," Bucky grinned.

“Not sure it’s sugar you’re full of,” he replied. Bucky laughed and Steve took a deep breath, smiling. They eased back into their normal banter as they ate.

When they were done, Bucky leapt up and grabbed Steve’s jacket before he could stand. After putting on his own coat, he stepped in front of Steve to hold the door open. They got a few steps down the sidewalk when Steve stopped.

"Why wouldn’t you let me pay?"

“What do you mean, why?”

"And why are you opening doors for me? Are you going to start pulling out my chair too?”

“Well, yeah. Something wrong with that?” There was an edge to Bucky’s voice, a challenge.

Steve was getting increasingly annoyed. "You’re treating me like an invalid. I can do things for myself." He pushed ahead of Bucky, shoving his hands in his pockets. Bucky caught up with him in several long strides and pulled him into the alley nearby. Steve scowled at him, arms crossed.

“I'm not treating you like an invalid. I'm treating you like my date.”

“I’m not some girl that needs coddling.”

“You aren’t ‘some’ anything.” Bucky’s eyes flashed and his mouth tightened. “I asked you, remember? So I pay for dinner and open doors and help you with your jacket and yeah, pull out your chair. Sue me for trying to be gentlemanly.” 

Steve’s retort died in his mouth. He hadn't realized how important this date was to Bucky. Steve had just assumed Bucky had it all under control, when he was actually as nervous as he was.

“I’m sorry, Buck. I’m an ass.”

“If you don’t want me to open doors and stuff, I won’t.”

“No, I was being…..”

“Stubborn? Obstinate? PIg-headed?”

“I warned you, didn’t I?” Steve smiled. “So I’m clear, though. When I ask you, I open the doors and take the coats and all?”

Bucky nodded. “Don’t forget pay for dinner.”

“And pay for dinner.”

“When are you going to ask me out, anyway? I’ve been waiting for years.”

“I guess you better keep showing me a good time, then.” Bucky’s laugh echoed down the alley as they returned to the sidewalk.

********************************************************************************************

They walked until they were in a part of the city Steve didn’t recognize. “Where are we going?”

“Harry’s.”

“What, like someone’s house?”

“Nope. It’s a dance hall, essentially. Like I said, though, you don’t have to dance. We can just listen to music and talk.”

“So why here and not the dance hall three blocks from home?”

“Ah. Well. Harry’s is different.”

“How?”

“It’s a little more relaxed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.” Bucky had led them down stairs to what looked like the door of a basement apartment. He knocked and a slot in the door opened. 

“Number, please.” a voice asked.

“428”

“Not on the list.”

“Check it again.”

The slot slammed shut and the door opened. Steve found himself looking up at a tall red headed woman who swept them in the door.

“Why, Mr. Barnes, who have you brought me?” She offered Steve her hand. “I’m Georgia and you’re gorgeous.”

“I’m Steve, actually,” he said, shaking her hand. She threw back her head and laughed.

“Bucky, let me keep him. Please?”

“You can keep his coat, but he’s coming with me,” he smiled.

“Spoilsport.” She took their coats and started hanging them on the rack behind her. She smiled at Steve. “If he don’t treat you right, honey, come find me. I’ll take care of you.”

“Um, ok,” Steve said and waved to her as he followed Bucky ushered him up the stairs.

“She’s a guy, right?” Steve asked.

“Sometimes. And sometimes she’s a girl, like tonight. It’s always a surprise.”

Bucky swung open the door to a large room. Small tables surrounded a dance floor where a band played. Two or three people sat at the bar, with several more scattered around larger tables near-by. It wasn’t crowded, but there were enough people there for Steve to notice what Bucky had been talking about. There were the usual guys and girls out for the night. But there were other couples, women with women, men with men, who were obviously together--holding hands, arms around waists, dancing close and sharing long looks. And no one gave them a second thought. They were just there like everyone else. Steve even spotted a couple of men wearing dresses and make up and sporting mustaches or beards, women in three piece suits and one person who seemed to be neither male nor female but a blend of both. 

Bucky nudged him. “It’s ok? If it’s overwhelming or makes you nervous.....”

“No it’s great! I’m a little surprised but it’s good.” Steve looked around a little more. “Yeah, it’s good.”

Steve had always thought that maybe he didn’t care as much about gender because his dating options were limited. But here were a bunch of people who didn’t seem to care about it either and their options didn’t seem limited at all. Maybe it wasn't just him after all.

Without thinking, Steve slipped his hand in the crook of Bucky’s arm like he had done it a thousand times before. Bucky glanced down at his pale hand against the navy fabric. 

“Sorry, I didn’t--” Steve started to pull his hand away and Bucky quickly covered it with his own.

“Don’t you dare.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Unless you don’t want anyone to know you’re with me.”

“Well, one person has already called me gorgeous, which is one more than ever has before. Maybe I should go stag and see what happens.” 

Bucky’s face shadowed.

“Buck, I’m kidding. I’m with you.”

“You are gorgeous, you know. I should have told you. I should’ve told you every day.”

Steve snorted. “You don’t have to--”

“You’re stunning. Hair like burnished gold, eyes like sapphires. And your smile, your real smile--God, it’s like sunshine. You wouldn’t believe the amount of time I spend trying to get you to smile.”

“If you say so,” Steve mumbled.

He wasn’t used to hearing nice things about himself, especially his appearance. Had it been anyone else, he would have punched them for lying to him. But this was Bucky, and he didn’t lie. Not to him. He let the words melt into his skin and an unfamiliar warmth spread through him.

Bucky lead him to a table at the edge of the dance floor. They had been sitting maybe a minute when a short, curly-headed woman bounded up to the table dragging a taller woman behind her. Bucky jumped up and Steve followed.

“Bucky!”

“Libby!” He opened his arms and spun her around in a hug.

“I am so glad you’re finally here. Claire is being a complete wet rag.”

Bucky turned to the tall woman next to her. “Hiya, Claire.”

“Hello, James.” She arched an eyebrow in Steve’s direction. “Who is this?”

“May I present Steve Rogers? Steve, meet Libby Geronimo and Claire Driscoll.”

Libby’s face lit up. “Steve? The Steve?” Libby grabbed Steve’s face and planted a huge kiss on his cheek.

“Oh, God, I’ve left lipstick on you." She grabbed a napkin and started rubbing. "I’m sorry, it’s just, Bucky’s been talking about you for months, hasn’t he, Claire?”

“Yes, months,” Claire replied.

“And I kept telling Bucky just to ASK YOU OUT because you sounded like such a swell guy, didn’t I tell him, Claire?”

“Yes, swell.”

“And he did and now you’re here and I’m thrilled! Aren’t you thrilled, Claire?”

“Yes, overjoyed.”

Libby shot daggers at her. 

“Claire, looks like you could use a drink,” Bucky said. Claire took his arm and they moved toward the bar.

“Sorry about her. I mean, she’s always a little aloof but she’s positively frigid tonight.”

“It’s fine.”

“So you’re Steve! I’m so excited that you’re here! Did I already say that?”

Steve nodded. Libby’s words rolled out like a roller coaster and there was nothing to do but go along.

“I feel like I know you already because Bucky never stops talking about you. Steve’s eyes, Steve’s hair, Steve’s hands, Steve’s smile….” She shook her head and her eyes sparkled above her smile. “He says you’re even more beautiful on the inside. Heart of gold, spine of steel is what he says.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. "What a sap.” 

“Tell me about it. He never shuts up about you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Libby giggled. “You don’t have to be sorry! I’ve gotten to poke fun at him for months because of it. He’ll ask anyone in this place to dance and have them fawning all over him by the end of the night, but he couldn’t get up the nerve to ask you out.” She smiled and patted his cheek. “You are really special to him.”

Steve looked over Libby’s shoulder where Bucky and Claire were waiting for drinks. Bucky saw him and winked, and Steve couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. He was starting to understand why the girls Bucky dated always looked a little breathless.

“How did..did you meet Bucky here?” he asked Libby.

“Yes! He’s the best dancer here and I love to dance so I asked him. I don’t want to bust in on your date, but do you mind if I get one dance in?”

“Have at it.”

“You’re so sweet!” She kissed his cheek. “Oh damn. More lipstick,” she grumbled and started scrubbing again as Claire and Bucky returned with drinks. Libby jumped up.

“Steve says I can dance with you so put the drinks down.”

Bucky looked surprised. “You sure, Steve?”

“Of course.”

“See? Claire, keep Steve company and don’t scare him, ok?” She kissed Claire quickly and grabbed Bucky’s hand, practically running to the dance floor. Steve turned to Claire.

Where Libby was all curves and curls and bounce, Claire was angles and straight lines and reserve. She was dressed in wide leg men’s trousers, cordovan wingtips and a creamy silk blouse. Her hair was cut in a severe bob and fell straight and glossy and her dark eyes peered out from under her bangs. 

He cleared his throat. “Um, would you like to dance, Miss Driscoll?”

“No. I hate dancing.”

“Oh thank God,” Steve muttered as Claire slid into the chair he held for her.

“If you didn’t want to dance, why did you ask, Steven?”

“Manners, Claire,” he shot back. “If you hate dancing, why are you in a dance hall?” 

She sipped her Manhattan. “I love Libby and Libby loves to dance. Ergo...I am at the dance hall.”

Steve followed her gaze to the dance floor. Bucky moved like a tiger, graceful and athletic. He threw Libby high and caught her like she weighed nothing. Steve felt a twinge of jealousy. Both of them looked loose and free and little wild. He realized he was being rude and turned back to Claire.

“What do you do when you’re not at the dance hall?”

“I study art history and criticism at Finch.”

“I didn’t know criticism was something you could study.”

“I went to study art. It turns out I am average at making art, but I am exceptionally good at telling other people how bad THEY are at making art. And speaking of…” She indicated the sketchbook on the table where Steve had been drawing quick outlines of the dancers. He hesitated.

“Manners, Steven,” she said.

He pushed it toward her. She flipped through the pages, pausing at one or two. “Bucky said you lettered signs and did illustrations.”

“I did. I do.”

“He failed to mention that you are an actual artist as well, Steven.”

“Illustrators aren’t artists?

“Anyone can draw the objects, but drawing the feelings...That’s the trick, isn’t it, Steven?”

“Steve. Please call me Steve.”

“I prefer Steven.”

“I don’t care what YOU prefer. It’s MY name and I prefer Steve.”

She turned to face him for the first time and the corner of her mouth lifted. She handed the sketchbook back to him. “Very well, Steve.”

Bucky and Libby returned to the table out of breath.

“What are you two talking about?”

“Steve and I are going to the Museum of Modern Art on Sunday next.” 

This was news to Steve.

“You are both invited, of course, but you should know that we will be standing in front of canvases for long periods of time pontificating on the artist’s meaning, and we do not wish to be rushed. It could take hours.” She looked over at Steve solemnly. “Don’t you agree, Steve?”

Steve nodded knowingly. “Days even.”

“Perhaps months.”

Libby was looking from one to the other in disbelief as Bucky burst into laughter.

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Bucky said.

Libby’s look of dismay had transformed into delight. “Count me in!”

“Excellent. Sunday at two. I’ll send the car for you and Bucky, Steve.”

“Oh, you don’t have--”

She silenced him with a severe look.

“We’ll look for the car at two,” Steve said meekly.

Steve and Bucky both rose as the two girls stood up to leave. Libby leaned in for another crack at Steve’s cheek, but he raised a hand. “Lipstick, remember?” She laughed and hugged him instead.

“He’s just wonderful,” she told Bucky as she hugged him. “Lucky you.”

Claire nodded at both of them and they disappeared into the crowd.

Bucky collapsed in a chair and Steve took the seat next to him.

“Lucky me,” he agreed, looking at Steve.

A shiver of pleasure washed over him at Bucky’s smile. “The car?”

“She’s a Driscoll. One of THE Driscolls. More money than they know what to do with.”

“I like her.”

“Apparently she likes you too. How did you talk her into taking you to MOMA?”

“I didn’t. I heard about it the same time you did.”

“I can’t believe she called you Steve. She refuses to call me anything but James.”

“She called me Steven at first. I told her to call me Steve and she said she preferred Steven and I told her I didn’t care what SHE prefered, my name was Steve.”

Bucky threw back his head and laughed. “Steve, you are something.”

Steve straightened up. “It’s my name.”

Bucky leaned into him. "Can I put my arm around you?"

Steve shrugged. "If you want."

His hand hovered over Steve's shoulder. "Only if _ you _ want," he said with a feline smile. Steve pushed Bucky's hand firmly on his shoulder and moved closer, settling into his half embrace.

"You are ridiculous." 

Bucky tried to look offended. "I told you I would ask first. I'm being chivalrous."

"You’re being seductive."

"Is it working?"

"You got an arm around me, don't you?" The side of Steve’s mouth twitched in a smile as Bucky preened in satisfaction.

Bucky leaned closer to murmur in his ear. “Are you going to dance with me later?”

“Don't push it," he said.

***********************************************************************************************

More and more people arrived and the room grew hotter and louder. Several people dropped by their table to speak to Bucky and he introduced Steve to all of them. Steve got used to the look of recognition on peoples’ faces when they heard his name and began to wonder if everyone in the room knew who he was. 

Eventually the heat and the smoke and the people and the noise closed in on Steve. 

“Is there somewhere we can go for air?” he asked.

Concern flashed across Bucky’s face. “You ok? Should we go home?”

“No, I just need to breathe for a minute.” Bucky nodded and led Steve toward a door near the entrance. They climbed up a set of stairs and eventually walked out onto the roof of the building.

“Hey, Mike. How’s it going?” Bucky said to the man standing just outside the door.

“Can’t complain. Things good for you, Buck?”

“Oh, yeah.” Bucky put a hand on the Steve’s back and drew him forward. 

“Mike, this is Steve,” and he smiled at Steve as if he’d just hung the moon. 

Steve could see Mike’s smile widen as he put out his hand. "Steve, it is great to finally meet you. Really great.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Steve and I just need a little break from the crowd.”

“Sure thing.”

Bucky lead Steve to a bench set against the walled edge of the roof.

“Mike watches the roof, makes sure nothing untoward goes on up here.”

Steve could make out the shapes of other couples scattered across the benches and roof, some laughing, some kissing, some talking. 

“Did you tell everyone about me?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. I guess I kind of did.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m crazy about you.” Bucky blushed. “Mike was the one who finally called me on it. He and I went on a date and as we walked back to his house, he said he had a good time, but that I should probably be asking you out instead.” Bucky shrugged. “Mike’s a lot like you. He doesn’t go in for bullshit.”

“When was this?”

“About four months ago. But I knew how I felt about you way before that.”

“He the only guy you’ve gone out with?”

Bucky paused. “No, he isn’t.”

“I’m...I think I’m jealous.” Steve gave a short laugh. “Definitely envious.” 

“It’s not like I dated every guy in New York. And none for more than a couple of dates. I couldn’t. None of them were you.” His voice was pleading almost, asking Steve to understand. “I feel stupid that I didn’t say something to you sooner, wasted all that time.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself, Buck. I could have said something, too.”

Steve realized too late that he’d spoken aloud.

“Said something about what?” He could hear the smile in Bucky’s voice.

“Nothing.” 

“Stevie,” Bucky crooned.

“It’s really nothing.”

”C’mon. Tell me.” Bucky’s hand found his in the dark.

“It’s just...this isn’t…I’ve thought about going on a date with you before,” he said in a rush.

Bucky asked in a small, hopeful tone, “Is it like you thought it’d be?” 

“It’s better.” 

“Steve.” Bucky’s voice was hazy. “I….”

Steve’s mouth suddenly went dry. “Do you mind if we go back down?” He wasn’t sure he could handle more confessions in the dark.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

As he trailed behind Bucky, hands entwined, Steve began to regret cutting him off. Bucky had made all the effort so far, reached out again and again and Steve kept pushing back and closing up. He stopped on the final stair, pulling Bucky to a halt. “I’m sorry if I--”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Bucky squeezed his hand. Steve reached out and brushed his fingertips along his cheekbone.

“You know how I draw you all the time?”

Bucky swallowed hard and nodded. 

“It gives me an excuse to stare at you.” He pushed the hair that had fallen over Bucky’s forehead back in place. “You’re so beautiful and...and that way I can look all I want.”

Bucky closed his eyes and leaned into Steve’s hand and wrapped an arm around his waist.

The door behind them opened and two couples came blasting through. They both jumped and Steve jerked his hand back. Bucky smiled as he held the door for them and then for Steve.

As they slipped back into their seats, Steve pushed his chair close to Bucky’s and laced their fingers together again. “I like the way my hand fits in yours,” he said, and found it was easier to say than he thought it would be. 

“I like it too,” Bucky said and sighed happily as Steve rested his head on his shoulder. Even though his mind was telling him to worry, he made himself focus in on the sound of the music, the softness of Bucky’s shirt, the chair beneath him. Eventually the buzz of anxiety that stayed with him subsided, replaced by the gentle brush of Bucky’s thumb across his wrist.

******************************************************************************************************

An hour later, Bucky was yawning into his drink and Steve took pity on him.

“Let’s go home.”

“No, I can stay! You’re having fun, right?”

“I’m having a great time. But you can’t stay awake much longer and I can’t carry you home.”

They got their coats, Bucky helping Steve, and were about to walk out the door when a sparkling voice said “Hey, handsome. You going my way?”

Bucky turned to the woman. “I’m always going your way, dollface.”

The woman’s laughter filled the hallway as she kissed Bucky’s cheek. 

“How you been, Cece?”’

“I’m getting by, thanks.”

“And you, Lillian?” Steve hadn’t noticed the petite woman standing in the shadows. Bucky kissed her cheek too.

“I’m good, Bucky. Glad to see you.” 

“I want you to meet someone.” Bucky threw an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in. "Ladies, this is Steve. Steve, this is CeCe and this is Lillian."

Steve saw the light dawn in Lillian's eyes and before she could say anything, he answered "Yes, I'm That Steve. I do exist. Bucky did not make me up." 

Lillian laughed, a lovely Sylvan peel, as CeCe snorted. Steve noticed Bucky's cheeks colour and smirked at him. 

"You fellas are on your way out?” Cece asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Care to join us?”

"I thought you’d never ask. We'll get our coats," and the two girls headed to the coat check.

Steve's heart sank. He could feel the familiar hollow in his stomach start to form and his palms began to sweat. His shoulders tightened again and his jaw tensed.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky said and put his hand gently on Steve’s back. "It's dangerous for them to walk home alone. It’s all for appearances.”

Steve nodded and relaxed. “I was just looking forward to holding your hand--.”

“We can’t hold hands out there.” Bucky’s voice was tight suddenly.

“Shit. Of course,” said Steve. “Of course. I mean, I finally want to hold someone’s hand so, of course I can’t." He could feel the colour rise on his neck as his anger began to flame.

Bucky stepped into him, then hesitated. “C’mere for a minute?”

Steve sighed as Bucky wrapped him in a hug and whispered, “I’d have you hanging off my arm everywhere we went, if I could.”

“No way,” Steve mumbled. “You’d be hanging off of mine.”

“Makes me happy you want to hold my hand.” 

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Course not.”

Steve jumped back as he heard the girls return. Cece reached for Steve’s arm, when Lillian broke in. “Uh-uh. I get Steve. He’s just my size.” Lillian was barely 5 feet tall, delicate and quiet. She slipped her hand in the crook of his elbow and smiled at him. “Finally I don’t have to go home with a crick in my neck from looking up.”

“Being short is good for something then,” Steve said dryly, and Lillian laughed her delicious laugh again. “You have such a lovely laugh,” he said, surprising himself.

Lillian smiled. “Why, thank you so much!”

“Hey. Watch it,” said Cece. “She’s _ my _ date.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chimed in. “And you’re mine, remember?”

“No way I’m forgetting that,” Steve said and winked at Bucky. He actually winked. What the hell had gotten into him? Bucky’s cheeks coloured as he grinned back, delighted.

They dropped the girls off at their doors and made their way slowly back to the apartment. Usually the walk home from a date was miserable. Steve would be exhausted and mortified, and Bucky would try bolster him. 

Tonight, though, they talked about how the weather was changing into spring and Bucky suggested that they go to a Dodgers game before it got too hot and Steve mentioned how much he’d liked the band tonight and the entire time, they walked close to one another, and smiled stupidly and giggled for no reason at all.

They finally made it to the apartment and after taking off their coats, Bucky offered Steve his arm again. “May I see you to your door?”

They walked the five steps it took to get to the bedroom doors.

“I had a great time tonight, Steve."

“Me too.”

Bucky leaned into him, creating a private space filled with him and Steve alone. 

“I’m glad,” he said softly. He moved to close the space between them, but stopped when Steve took the tiniest step back.

“Why, James Barnes! What kind of guy do you think I am?”

“You’re my kind of guy, Steve Rogers.”

“Well, your kind of guy doesn’t kiss on a first date!”

“First date, huh? Does that mean there’ll be a second?”

"I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Bucky’s chuckle was deep and warm. “Night, Steve. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Night, Bucky.”

He left Bucky standing in the hallway, and flung himself on his bed. He was exhausted and exhilarated and full of so many thoughts and feelings he couldn’t keep them all straight, except for the chorus in his head shouting “Bucky Bucky Bucky.” He wondered how he could possibly contain so much and he wanted Bucky to know all the things he couldn’t say yet.

He grabbed his sketch book and started drawing his hand in Bucky’s, their fingers laced together. He thought about what Claire said and drew the feeling of Bucky’s thumb brushing his wrist, his shoulders relaxing, his brain clearing itself of all of his anxiety until nothing was there but these two hands.

When he finished, he snuck across the hall and slipped it under Bucky’s door. He slept better than he had in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This is a new adventure for me, so thanks for the kudos, and the feedback too! Comments make me so happy! XO!


	3. Though I Stab Chaotically, It Hurts No One But Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a little girl crying and a kitten howling and Steve couldn't walk away from that.

Steve checked the wrapping on his hand. There was no new blood, thank God. At least the bruises were covered--Sammy Hill wasn’t stupid, Steve thought. Mean as hell, but not stupid. Sammy knew Bucky Barnes would hunt him down and beat the shit out of him for wailing on Steve, but he also knew Steve wouldn’t tell Bucky if he could help it. Body shots lessened the chance of Bucky ever finding out. 

The light was turning golden and Steve realized Bucky would be home soon. As he straightened up the table, a slip of white paper floated to the floor. Steve picked it up, recognizing Bucky’s handwriting--”I’m thinking about you right now, gorgeous.” Steve held it against his chest before tucking it into his pocket and starting supper.

Since their date, Bucky told Steve he was gorgeous at least twice a day. It was one of the small changes that had happened since then. They stood closer together, found reasons to be near one another. Steve told Bucky he didn't need to ask to hold his hand or put an arm around him, and, once he had permission, Bucky seldom missed an opportunity to be in direct contact. Half of Steve was delighted by the affection. The other half wondered what he would do to screw it all up.

His heart leaped when he heard Bucky bound up the stairs. “Stevie! I’m home!”

“Yeah, it’s hard to miss your stomp on the steps.”

Bucky walked in behind him, smelling like water and winter. Steve wanted to fall into him, and hold on. He was afraid, though, Bucky would squeeze in the wrong place and he’d flinch and then have to have a conversation he’d rather avoid.

Bucky peered over him, his hand on Steve’s shoulder. "Supper smells good."

“I made hash with the corned beef left from Sunday. And I was going to make eggs.”

Bucky’s eyes got wide. “No way you're making eggs," he said as he snatched the spatula out of Steve's hand. "You set the table."

“I only burned them one time,” Steve groused. “And I was sick.”

“We had to buy a new pan. We smelled like smoke for days.”

“ONE TIME.”

“You almost burned the building down.”

“Fine,” he said and huffed off to set the table.

Bucky talked non-stop as they ate, filling him in on the goings on in the neighbourhood. Steve tried to focus, but lost himself in the way Bucky’s mouth moved and lifted and smiled, and how his hands shaped the air and emphasized his words. 

Later that evening, when they were settled on the sofa in their usual spots, Steve began to relax, thinking Bucky hadn't noticed anything. He should have known better.

"What happened to your hand?" Bucky asked casually.

"Nothing. Just knocked it against the table."

"That where the marks on your wrist came from too?” Bucky didn’t look up from his book. “Cause they look a lot like fingerprints."

Steve looked at his wrist where his cuff had fallen back to reveal to four purple ovals where Sammy had grabbed him. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Steve mumbled.

“That’s not what Mrs. Halsey said.” Steve jerked his head up as Bucky carefully marked his place in his book. “I saw her on my way home and she said to tell you thank you for saving Alma’s kitten.”

Damn it. He could have kept all this from Bucky if Mrs. Halsey had stayed out of it. He was going to have to explain it now, and Bucky would look at him with a blank face and lecture him in that clipped voice that he used when he was trying to control himself. As if Steve couldn’t see and hear the undercurrent of anger. By now, he thought Bucky would have learned that he didn’t do it on purpose, didn’t do it to make him angry. But Bucky was angry anyway. He sighed.

“I took a walk this morning, and when I was coming back to the house, I heard Alma Halsey screaming and an animal crying so I stopped to see what was happening. Sammy Hill was swinging that little kitten around by the tail. Laughing. Telling Alma he was going to let go.”

Steve felt his neck get hot as he recalled the scene. He’d tried so hard to walk away. It was just a silly little girl and her stupid little kitten, he told himself, even as he marched towards them. It wasn’t right that Sammy Hill and men like him could walk around and do whatever they wanted to whomever they wanted. Steve couldn’t do much, but he could at least stand up. He could at least take the hits so the kitten, or Alma, or all the other vulnerable people didn’t have to.

“He knew Tom wasn’t home and the kitten was crying and Alma was crying and no one was doing anything and---” 

“Steve--“ 

“If you had seen Alma--

“Steve--”

“And that little kitten was so scared--”

“Steve!”

Steve looked at Bucky, desperate for him to understand. “I couldn’t walk away. I couldn’t.”

Bucky unwrapped his hand and examined his scraped knuckles. “You hit the wall?”

Steve nodded.

“Think you broke anything?”

Steve snorted. “I’ve never hit anything hard enough to break.”

“Be right back.” 

Bucky returned with a bowl of water and a cloth, clean bandages and a little tin of ointment. 

"The kitten is fine, by the way," Bucky said as he cleaned the scrapes. "Alma has officially named him Sir, in your honor."

"How’s that after me?" Steve asked.

"Your initials. S.R. Sir."

Bucky finished wrapping up his hand and rolled down the cuff of his shirt. He narrowed his eyes and stared at Steve hard.

“Let’s see the rest,” he said.

“That’s all there is.”

“Bullshit.”

Steve sighed and gingerly stripped off his shirt. He lifted his arm and revealed a landscape of bruising along his side. 

“Sammy fucking Hill,” Bucky said, his face going flat.

“Yeah. Sammy fucking Hill.” 

Bucky settled himself on the floor and began rubbing ointment gently into Steve’s bruises. The press of Bucky’s fingers against his skin made him almost glad he’d taken the pounding. The bruising wasn’t deep. He’d only be sore for a day or two. Still, his life would be a hell of a lot easier if he could manage to walk away from a fight every once in a while.

“I wish I wasn’t like this.” Steve said softly.

“Like what?”

“I wish I could not get so angry about shit. That I could just not care about what happens to people. Then maybe I could keep myself out of trouble.” Steve shook his head and laughed a hollow laugh. “Sometimes, I think God made me like this as a joke.”

Bucky kept quiet.

“You’d think that if He made me to fight, he would have given me the body to do it. And if I gotta be small, at least I could be healthy. He must think it’s a riot, watching me get my ass kicked.”

Bucky scoffed. “First off, you really think God cares enough about your punk ass to make you into his personal joke? He doesn’t. He’s got bigger fish to fry.”

Steve tried to smile.

Bucky pushed himself up on the sofa next to Steve and took his hands. “Second, you think your whole life is going to be like this, in this body, but what if it isn’t? Who knows what medical marvel they'll come up with? You just gotta stick around to see. Your life isn't set in stone.”

Steve pulled his hands away gently and put his shirt back on, buttoning it slowly.

“Know what I wish?” Bucky said. “I wish I had the fire you have. You aren’t afraid of anyone or anything. You just...blaze.” 

“Yeah, and look where it gets me.”

“Hey, you got a cat named after you.” Bucky gathered up the first aid supplies and reappeared with the afghan from his bed. He wrapped it around Steve’s shoulders and settled back in with his book. Steve watched him for a minute before finally asking the question he really wanted the answer to.

“How long you going to be mad at me?”

Bucky looked up with a start. “I’m not...is that what you think? That I’m mad at you?”

“You're always mad at me when I get into a fight. Every time I come home like this, you get that tone in your voice and that blank stare and then you don’t talk to me for a day.”

Bucky stared, open mouthed.

“It’s like you keep expecting me to change, and you’re mad when I don’t.”

“I’m not mad at you. I don’t expect you to change or want you to change.” Bucky tapped his fist against his thigh. “I’m mad at Sammy Hill and all the other people like him. I want THEM to change. I want them to stop being assholes so you don’t have to get into scrapes.” 

Steve rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Yeah. Me too.” 

He was suddenly weary. He was tired of a world where people like Sammy Hill were granted continued existence. He thought about how good it would feel to lay his head in Bucky’s lap and forget for a little bit. Slowly, he stretched out on the couch, resting his head on Bucky’s thigh, and pulled the afghan under his chin. 

Bucky grew still. Steve was on the verge of sitting back up when he felt tentative fingers brush through his hair.

“This ok?”

Steve nodded, the knot in his throat preventing him from answering. Bucky’s touch was a better balm for his pain than the ointment. After a few minutes, he trusted himself to speak.

“Read to me?” he asked softly. 

“Yeah, sure.” Bucky flipped back to the beginning of his well-worn book and cleared his throat. “‘I was leaning against the bar at a speakeasy on Fifty-second Street, waiting for Nora to finish her Christmas shopping, when a….’” 

He continued reading, continued running his fingers in Steve’s hair. The constant touch and the rhythmic voice soothed away the rest of his pain until it was a vague ache.

The next thing he knew, Bucky was shaking him. Steve sat up blinking.

“Come on,” Bucky said, pulling him to his feet. “You can’t sleep out here.”

“Do you want to go on another date with me?” Steve said quickly. 

Bucky smiled and pulled him close, careful to avoid his side. “You asking me out?

“Yeah. Saturday?” Steve asked.

“Saturday’s great.” 

They kept their arms around one another as they walked down the hall.

“Second date,” Bucky said. “Does that mean I get to kiss you?”

“Is kissing all you ever think about?”

“No, it’s not all I think about.” Bucky gave him a wicked grin. “Specially when I'm thinking about you.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Steve shoved him away.

“A guy can dream, right?”

“Good night, Bucky.”

“Night, Steve,” he said, winking. “You’re gorgeous.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is reading _The Thin Man_ by Dashiell Hammett, published in 1934, and the quote is the first sentence of the novel.


	4. A Light in the Window to Pass The Night Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve plans the date this time.

Steve surveyed the room, straightening a chair, refolding a napkin. He was glad Bucky had picked up an extra shift that day, so he could get things ready without having to skulk around. When Bucky had gotten home and gotten cleaned up, Steve had marched him to his room and told him not to come out until he came to get him.

“Can I get my book?” Bucky had called.

“No!”

“But I’ll just--”

“I swear I will cancel this date if you so much as crack the door!” Steve yelled. He heard Bucky laugh in response, but he hadn’t cracked the door.

Steve took a deep breath before knocking. The door swung open immediately. 

“Hey, handsome.” Bucky’s eyes drifted from Steve’s face down to his shoes and up again. “I hope you’re here for me.” 

That husky voice made him weak, but wasn’t about to let Bucky know it. Not yet, anyway.

“Actually, I was wondering if Becca was here?”

“Aw, you’re breaking my heart, Stevie!”

“Will this make it better?” Steve held out a clutch of paper flowers.

Bucky took the little bouquet and examined the delicate folds and blossoms. "Did you make these?"

"Yes. I wanted to get real ones but--"

“These are better than real.” Bucky's eyes shone as he lifted Steve’s hand to his lips. "Can I…?”

Steve nodded shyly and Bucky pressed his lips against Steve’s fingers. Steve could feel the heat radiating off of his face as he stood there, grinning like an idiot, while Bucky kissed his hand.

“Are you ready, then?” Steve asked.

“Let me get my jacket and we’ll go.”

“You don’t need it.” He laced his fingers into Bucky’s. “Not tonight.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What kinda date we going on?”

“Close your eyes and I’ll show you.”

Bucky did as he was told. Steve led him into the kitchen and positioned him for the best view. 

"Alright, you can look."

Bucky opened his eyes and caught his breath.

The table was set for dinner with the nicest dishes they owned, the ones with no cracks or chips. His mother’s blue linen tablecloth shone softly in the flickering candlelight. There were more paper flowers scattered across the table, and a hand-lettered menu lay at each place. Steve smiled-- It looked exactly the way he wanted. 

Next to him, Bucky just stood there, and the longer he was silent, the more nervous Steve got. Maybe this hadn’t been the brilliant idea he thought it was. Maybe Bucky was disappointed at the thought of an evening in.

"It's a silly idea, I guess,” Steve fidgeted next to him. “We can go out if you'd rather."

“It’s beautiful, just...perfect.” Bucky turned. “How’d you manage it?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m magic.”

“I always suspected,” Bucky whispered in his ear. It made Steve smile.

Steve pulled out a chair. “Have a seat.”

“I can help--”

“Absolutely not,” Steve said as he motioned for Bucky to sit. “I asked you, remember?

“Yeah, but-”

Steve gave him a crooked smile. “It’s not up for discussion.”

Bucky took his seat and picked up the linen napkin at his place.

“These belonged to your ma, didn’t they?” he asked as Steve put a bowl of soup in front of him.

“Yeah.” He didn’t tell Bucky about the one tucked in his top drawer next to the lavender sachet he’d found in her trunk after she died, the one that still had the imprint of her lipstick.

“She must have been thinking of you when she embroidered them,” Bucky said as he ran his finger along the R on the corner. “The thread is the same color blue as your eyes.”

“I wasn’t born yet,” Steve said, taking his seat.

“Maybe while she sewed them, she thought, I hope my son has beautiful blue eyes just this color.” 

“She embroidered them right before she got married,” Steve said as he nibbled on a cracker. “If anything, she was thinking about my Da.”

Bucky sighed. “Steve, I am trying to give you a compliment and remind you that your Ma loved you at the same time.”

“Really?” Steve laughed.“You’re not doing a very good job.”

“I can tell.” Bucky laughed with him, then turned his attention to supper. “This soup is delicious. Who made it?”

Steve tried to look insulted.“What do you mean, who made it?” 

“Well, the building is still standing and it’s actually edible, so I know YOU didn’t make it.”

“Mrs.Halsey made it. Apparently saving a kitten has benefits.”

After eating their fill, Steve began clearing the dishes. Bucky picked up the menu card, smiling at the border of kittens and flowers, and exclaimed "Baked apples for dessert!"

Steve’s face lit up. "I did make those! They still need to bake, though." 

“Got plans for the meantime?”

Steve twisted his napkin. "I thought maybe you might show me how to dance.” 

"Really?”

“Yeah, really," Steve said defensively. "You think I can’t do it?”

“I know you can. You’ve just never been too interested before. Why now?"

Steve leaned in, eyes bright. "There's finally someone I want to dance with."

Bucky leaned his elbows on the table, his silly grin matching Steve’s. "Yeah? Who's that?"

"Lillian!" Steve said. 

Bucky was shocked for a moment before sputtering "Lillian! Lillian? She's got a girlfriend! You can't-" He broke off when he realized Steve's shoulders were shaking. 

"God, your face, Buck!" Steve laughed. 

"Yeah, yeah," he said. 

"I'm sorry!" Steve wiped his eyes.

"Well, I'm sure not teaching you to dance now.” 

Steve gave him a rare, true smile and rested his hand lightly on Bucky's. "Next time we go out, I want to dance with you. Every song."

Bucky shook his head, helpless, and pressed Steve’s hand against his chest. “I’d do anything to get you to smile like that. You light me up, Steve.”

“I’ll clear the table if you’ll clear a dance floor,” Steve said nodding towards the living room. He pulled his hand away and started stacking dishes. 

He was still uncomfortable when Bucky said things like that. He kept thinking he had pulled one over him and that this was the night Bucky figured it out. He wanted to believe what Bucky believed--that he was special, courageous, and kind. He wanted to let Bucky’s words thaw the parts of him he’d kept protected for so long. But when he got to the edge of letting go, he always looked down and the drop made him dizzy and he backed away, staying safe on the other side of the walls that he had built between himself and the world.

By the time Steve had finished in the kitchen, Bucky had moved the sofa to the edge of the wall and put the small table they used as a coffee table on top. Steve’s hands itched for a pencil to draw him, collar loosened, sleeves rolled up, bent over the radio to find a station. When he noticed Steve, a slow smile spread across his face.

“Wanna dance?”

Steve thought he might swoon, but managed to remain standing and smile back.

“Where do we start?” Steve asked.

“Foxtrot. It’s basically walking with style.” Bucky stood next to him with an arm around his waist. “We’re gonna go slow at first.” Bucky showed Steve the elegant walk that counted as a step for the trot. It wasn’t hard and Steve picked it up pretty well. 

“Ok, good. Now, face to face. Is it ok if I lead?”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

Bucky put a firm hand on his back as he rested his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Loosen your shoulders.” Bucky poked him in the ribs and he giggled. “That’s better.”

They started to move and Steve stepped squarely on Bucky’s foot.

“Aw hell, Buck--”

“It’s ok. Just follow me.”

But it only went downhill from there. Every wrong move made him tense up more. 

“It’s ok, Steve. Relax.”

He kept looking down, willing his feet to move in the right direction.

“Relax. You’re doing fine,” Bucky said.

But Steve couldn’t get out of his head. Why was this hard? It seemed so easy for everyone else.

“Relax.”

“Stop saying that.” Steve’s mouth was set in a hard line as he pushed away from Bucky. 

“Hey. C’mon.” Bucky reached for his hand.

“Don’t.” 

“Why are you so wound up about this?”

“I don’t want to watch you dance with other people all night--I want you to dance with me.” Steve flopped on the couch, his face in his hands. “I want to be good enough that you want to dance with me.”

Bucky knelt in front of him and peeled his hands from his face. “The fact that you want to dance with me, in public, so everyone knows I'm yours--makes me all fluttery."

Steve sighed and tried to smile. "Even though I'm clumsy and nervous and need to take a break every other dance cause I can't fucking breathe?" 

Bucky laughed. "Yeah, even with all of that. Hell, you could dance the entire night standing on my feet and it'd be the best time I ever had.”

Steve winced. “I’d like to avoid the stepping on your feet part, if possible.”

“Sure thing." Bucky hauled him off the couch and into his arms. “You’re thinking too much about the wrong things.”

Steve snorted. “Story of my life.”

“Don’t think about the steps or your feet or...or anything. Just listen to the music and look at me.”

“Won’t work,” Steve mumbled, but the knot between his shoulders was already loosening. He breathed, slowly and deeply, and looked up. The open affection on Bucky’s face let him melt, just a little, enough to try again. 

Bucky led them around the room. Any time Steve tensed up or stepped wrong, Bucky pulled him back in. “Listen to the music...breathe...just look at me.” 

Eventually, there was nothing in the room but the music and Bucky’s face, and the dancing took care of itself. The smell of Bucky’s aftershave, the heat of his skin and the strength in his arm overwhelmed him. He inhaled sharply, surprised by the intensity of it.

“You ok?” Bucky searched Steve’s face for the smallest sign of distress. “Want to sit down?” 

“No…" He moved his hand to Bucky’s cheek and searched his eyes. "I want...I want to…" 

Bucky's hands moved down his back, and he pressed his forehead to Steve's. "It's ok, Stevie. Whatever you want is ok." 

His quiet words seemed to weave a spell around them. Steve kissed his cheek, then his chin, his nose, eyelids, forehead--light, shimmering kisses that felt like breathing. He shivered as Bucky brushed a thumb over his lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he whispered and Bucky’s lips were on his and it felt like Bucky was embracing every part of him, inside and out. All the warmth, all the good, all the love Bucky had flooded him and his carefully constructed walls dissolved like tissue paper in a deluge. Seconds or centuries passed and the warm smell of cinnamon tickled at something in the back of his mind until he exclaimed "Shit! The apples!" 

Bucky’s laughter trailed behind him as he dashed to the kitchen. The apples had just bloomed into roses, fragrant with butter and sugar. He slipped them onto small plates and took them into the living room, where they sat on the floor and ate. Bucky relished each bite, so much so that Steve tried to get him to eat the rest of his, just so he could watch Bucky enjoy it. 

“Save it,” Bucky said. “You can have it for breakfast tomorrow.” He leaned back against the sofa, reaching for Steve. He slid next to him and Bucky dropped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him tight against his side. Steve rested his head on his shoulder.

“Why’re you doing this, Buck?”

“Cause I like holding on to you.”

“That’s not what I mean. You could have anyone. Why me?”

“Where do I start? Because you do things like this.” Bucky waved his hand. “The table and dinner and the flowers and dessert--it’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” He ran his hand down Steve’s arm. “And then you ask me to dance? How can I resist you?” 

Steve dropped his head.

“You don’t believe me," Bucky said lightly. “When I say you’re wonderful, that I’m crazy about you, that you’re gorgeous-you don’t believe me.” 

“I stopped believing what people say about me a long time ago. It’s hard to get back in the habit,” Steve said, trying to laugh it off. Bucky kept quiet. Steve cleared his throat.

“You see something in me no one else does. You always have,” Steve finally said.

“Tell you what,” Bucky said, tilting Steve’s face up. "I’ll just keep telling you how amazing you are and maybe, eventually, it’ll sink in."

Steve’s smile turned impish. “More kisses would help, too.” 

“Well, if you think so,” Bucky sighed, his fingers threading through his Steve’s hair as he pulled him in, “I’m willing to try.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! This is likely the last update before the New Year, but I am still working. I appreciate your love and comments!


	5. Want To Make It Right By You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Steve have a heart to heart. Steve makes some decisions.

Steve stared at the painting in front of him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at Claire who who stood next to him in quiet contemplation.

As Claire had promised the week before, a car had arrived for them at 2:00pm that afternoon and the driver had deposited them at the Museum of Modern Art. Libby and Claire had been waiting for them in the front room, and Claire immediately guided them towards the newest exhibit. 

“Well?” she asked.

“It’s...” Steve cleared his throat. 

“Go on.”

He pursed his lips. “It brings to mind-”

“Out with it, Steve.”

“It’s shit.” He turned to Claire. “Maybe I’m just not cultured enough to get it.”

“You get it completely,” said Claire.

“Is it supposed to make me angry?” Steve looked at the painting again. “Because it does.”

“To be fair, most things make you angry,” Bucky said. Steve elbowed him in the ribs.

Libby laughed. “According to the artist statement, it’s a ‘reflection on the emptiness we have within us all, and a call to come together to fill that emptiness.’”

“It’s truly awful,” Claire surmised. 

“Why? I can look at it and know it’s awful, but I don‘t know why.” said Bucky. 

Claire launched into an explanation while Bucky and Libby listened. Steve continued to wander through the paintings--Cezanne, Picasso, Rousseau--until a lithograph caught his eye. In it, a figure bent over two children, long thin arms reaching for them. The children were frightened but resigned, as if they were relieved in some way. In the background, two small legs carried another child away. It reminded him of being young and ill--feeling like Death might be at his bedside.

“ Tod greift in eine Kinderschar .” Steve jumped. Claire was beside him, arms behind her back.

“What?”

“The title of the piece. Death Grabbing at a Group of Children. The artist is Kathe Kollwitz.”

Steve considered the print. “It manages to be creepy and comforting at the same time.”

They walked to a nearby bench and sat down. “Are you sure you don’t want to be an art critic, Steve? You’re quite good at it.”

He shook his head. “No, but thank you.” He was distracted by Bucky imitating the the positions of the figure drawings he and Libby were looking at. 

“I would have thought there was to be a wedding next week, the way you two look at each other.” Claire said. “It’s almost scandalous.”

Steve felt the colour rise in his cheeks as he turned to Claire. “It’s only been two weeks.”

“Are you really going to tell me that it has only occurred to you in the last two weeks that you might be in love with James?”

Steve stared at her, open-mouthed. This must be what it was like to talk to himself, to be called out on things you didn’t even realize anyone else knew. He snapped his jaw shut.

“Yes. The thought had occurred to me. But I never thought HE was in love with ME.” He glared at her. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“I suppose it isn’t.” Claire sighed. “But James is my friend and I know that you are important to him.” 

Steve looked back at Bucky, his beautiful smile and kind eyes, and wondered how long it would take for him to realize he’d made a mistake. 

“Only until he realizes he can do better,” he said quietly. “I almost feel guilty.”

“You feel as if you’ve led him to believe you are something you are not, and you don’t want to disappoint him.”

He felt naked, as if she could see inside of him, could see the fortress walls and the chasm and the fear. As he looked at her, though, he realized that she wasn’t talking about him. 

“I fell in love with Libby instantly.” Her voice was small and soft. “She’s like a star come to life, leaving shining trails wherever she steps, and I am a perpetual rain cloud. I couldn’t believe she was interested in me.”

“I told myself all sorts of things--that she was there for my money, for my status, for the incredible brownies our cook makes. All ridiculous, of course. It’s not as if she could tell anyone she was dating me.” Claire shook her head. “I kept my distance far too long. When I finally let her in, let her see me, I was shocked to find that she actually loved me, even the parts I thought no one could possibly love.”

Steve remembered what it felt like to kiss Bucky for the first time, to have all of that love flow through him, like honey in the sun.

“Why are you telling me this, Claire?”

“I’m merely trying to pass on some advice.”

“Which is?”

She turned to him with fierce eyes. “Let him love you. All of you, even the parts you don’t think are lovable. Especially those.”

“I’ll try,” he managed to say. Claire gave him a smile, the first honest smile he’d seen from her.

“You and I are lucky, Steve. We get to love and be loved. Not everyone does.”

They sat quietly for a moment until they heard Bucky and Libby’s voices moving towards them.

“I assume you will never tell anyone about this conversation,” Claire said primly. “I do have a reputation to protect.”

“Of course not,” he said.

She nodded. “Now, let’s find our partners in crime. I’m hungry.”

A few nights later, Bucky and Steve were on the sofa, a tangle of hands and lips and tongues. Steve had discovered the soft skin of Bucky’s neck and was trying to pull sweet sounds from him.

“Hey!” Bucky squirmed away. “Don’t leave a mark!”

“Too late,” Steve said, admiring his work. “You better think of something to tell the fellas at work.”

“I’m gonna tell them about the hot little blond I’ve been seeing,” Bucky said as he left a line of kisses on Steve’s throat. “They’ll all ask me if they’ve got a chance and I’ll tell ‘em no way. Never.” He kissed Steve gently. “I’m serious about this one.”

“James Barnes? Serious? They’ll never believe you.”

“I only care if you believe me.”

“I believe you," Steve said quickly.

“What about you?”

“I’m always serious.” 

Bucky’s lips twitched in a smile. “I mean about us.” His voice wasn’t as confident as it  had been. “Are you serious about us?”

Steve thought about giving him another flippant answer. But Claire’s voice rattled in his  head--love and be loved. Take the risk. 

“I’ve never been more serious.” He buried his head in Bucky’s chest to cover his red face.

Bucky sighed happily. “Sweetheart.” he murmured in Steve’s ear.

Steve sat up. “What did you call me?”

“Sweetheart.” Bucky looked at him with dreamy eyes. “Cause you're my sweetheart and  I'm your honey bunny.”

"Honey bunny?” Steve dissolved into a fit of laughter. “I can’t say that with a straight  face.”

“But it makes you laugh and I love to hear you laugh.”

“I love…” Did he have it in him to say it? “I love you.” 

Bucky searched his face. “Say that again?”

Steve took Bucky’s face in his hands.

“I’m in love with you.” He smiled at Bucky’s stunned expression. “I love you.”

He would have fallen off the sofa from the force of Bucky’s kiss if not for the tightness of  his embrace. Steve finally had to shove him away. 

“I can’t breathe, Buck!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” Bucky said. “But you gotta know...Steve, I love you. I love you deep, like can’t see the bottom of it deep. All the way to the core of the Earth deep. I’ve wanted to say it for so long but I didn’t want to scare you and now I can and I love you. I’m all the way over the moon and into the stars in love with you.”

Bucky kissed him breathless again, until they collapsed, quiet and content. They sat there, enjoying the quiet and the feel of one another.

“Stay with me tonight,” Bucky said. 

Steve stiffened. He wasn’t sure how to respond. 

“Oh...oh I don’t mean have sex with me.” 

Steve did his best to look offended. 

“I mean, I want to have sex with you," Bucky said quickly, "just not…tonight...I mean...if you want we could...but that's not what I was....shit.”

Though Steve was enjoying watching normally cool, confident Bucky squirm, he couldn’t keep a straight face anymore.

“Calm down, Buck. I’m just teasing you.”

“Jerk.” Bucky relaxed. “I like the way your arms feel around me, the way your skin smells. I like having you near me.” Bucky took a deep breath in. “I’d like to wake up to that. To you.” 

Steve felt a little woozy at the prospect of waking up next to Bucky, sleepy eyes and hoarse voice and bare chest and...he looked at Bucky. 

“Yeah. I’d like that too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kathe Kolwitz "Death Grabbing at a Group of Children" was on display at MoMA in 1939. The museum owns 5 of the 8 lithographs in the series. You can see it here:  
https://www.moma.org/collection/works/117569?artist_id=3201&locale=en&page=1&sov_referrer=artist
> 
> Sorry this took so long! The next update shouldn't be as delayed, and that'll be the last chapter. Thanks again for reading! I hope it's going in a direction you like.


	6. Even the Darkness Has Arms, But It Ain't Got You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has one more question for Bucky.

Steve sat on his end of the sofa, his cold feet shoved under Bucky’s thigh, while Bucky read the latest issue of Amazing Stories. Steve had a book with him, but Bucky himself was much more interesting. He loved the way Bucky nibbled his lip when he was concentrating, how his face shifted as he reacted to what he read, how every so often, he’d get Steve’s attention and read him something he found particularly interesting.

Earlier that day, Steve had come across the sketch he’d made of Bucky the night he’d first told Steve about the person he loved, the person Steve had never imagined could possibly be him. But it had been six months since that night. Six months of dates and I love yous and morning cuddles and evening bliss. Six months of feeling like he was the luckiest man alive. Six months of dreading the day Bucky moved on. 

And there was the problem. Deep inside of him, there was a little boy who’d overheard his father tell his mother that they’d all be better off if Steve would just go ahead and die. Every time he thought he might finally start trusting Bucky’s love, that little boy reminded him of all the ways he was unlovable. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” he would think. “But it’s not going to last.”

“Hey Buck?”

“Yeah?” 

“I wanted to...I have this problem.”

“You have several.” Bucky said wryly.

“Ha ha,” said Steve. Bucky put his magazine down and turned to face him. 

“Alright. Talk to me.”

“The problem is...the problem is I’m just sitting around waiting for you to break my heart. Like, I understand that we’re together and all, but I can’t shake the feeling that you’re going to leave me.”

“Sweetheart, I am not going to leave you, and I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it. There is no place else I’d rather be than with you.”

“Well, I think I finally figured out something you could do that would help.”

“What’s that?”

“Marry me.”

Bucky paused for a moment. “That’s not funny, Steve.”

“I’m not joking, Buck.”

“I really want you to believe in this...believe in me and you give me marry you?” 

Steve jumped up and started down the hall.

“Wait, you started this conversation. DO NOT walk out on it now!” Bucky yelled after him.

He stopped short when Steve returned with a portfolio tied with blue ribbon and a small box.

“Can I start over?” Steve was breathless.

“Please, because I have no idea what’s going on.” 

Steve, cheeks flushed, heart pounding, grabbed Bucky’s hands and plunged in.

“I love you, everything about you. Even the things I don’t like, I still love.”

“What could you possibly not like--”

Steve smiled and put a hand to Bucky’s face, thumb on his lips. “Just let me talk, ok?” he said. Bucky nodded.

“You are everything I’ve ever wanted and I’ve spent the last six months wondering when it would all go away. I thought I wasn’t enough for you in so many ways...hell I still think that.”

Bucky’s hands squeezed around his. “It’s the other--”

“You never left.” Steve knew if he didn’t interrupt he’d never get through this. “You never rejected me or made me feel less than. Even when we fought and I was an ass and it would have been so easy to knock me down, you didn’t. And Bucky, I feel good. I feel so good with you and I want to feel that way for always. So marry me.” 

Steve had never seen Bucky completely speechless. He sat there in a daze, as if he hadn’t followed what Steve had said at all. Steve kept talking. 

“Look, I know we can’t get married for real. Not yet. But that could change.”

Bucky snorted.

“You always tell me that one day they’ll cure what’s wrong with me, we just need to stick around to see,” Steve said. “Why is thinking they’ll let us get married one day any crazier?”

Bucky finally looked at him full in the eye. “You’re serious.”

“I’m always serious.” Steve opened the box with shaking hands. In it were two medals on silver chains. “I know we can’t wear rings, so I got these. The St. Stephen’s medal is for you and the St. James’ medal is for me.”

Bucky brushed his fingers across the necklaces. “You’re asking me to marry you.”

“Yes.”

“And since rings are a no go, you got me an engagement medal.”

Steve nodded. Bucky still hadn’t said yes and he was getting nervous. Maybe this was the moment it all fell apart. 

“Is it ok?” he asked faintly.

Bucky’s face was pure joy. “Every time I think I can’t love you more than I already do...Yes. I’ll marry you.”

“Oh thank God,” Steve sighed. “I was afraid I’d fucked it all up.”

Bucky reached for his necklace.

“Wait, I’ll put it on you,” Steve said, pulling it out of the box. Bucky sat up straight and still while Steve fastened the clasp around his neck. After his was on, Bucky put the St. James’ medal on Steve and they sat there, looking at each other, giggling like they’d had too much champagne. 

“Are you ever gonna stop laughing?” Steve asked.

“What about you?” Bucky laughed. “Sitting over there like a damned hyena.”

“Why am I sitting over here?” Steve climbed into Bucky’s lap. “I can’t kiss you from way over here.”

They kissed, long and hard, and laughed some more, happiness and incredulity spilling from them like water over a cliff. 

“What’s in the portfolio?” Bucky finally asked.

“Oh. Yeah.” Steve shyly opened the folder. He had filled page after page with illustrations of their wedding. There were drawings both of them in new wedding suits, in front of the priest, then them on the steps of the church, dancing at Harry’s, riding off in Claire’s Pierce-Arrow while all of their friends and family smiled and waved. Steve showed him each one, pointing out the details and why he had chosen this flower, or that place. He was surprised to find Bucky crying when he finished.

“Bucky, honey, don’t.” Steve wiped the tears off his cheeks.

“I’ve spent the last six months wondering when I was gonna come home to an empty apartment.” Bucky finally said. “I figured you’d realize you could do better and just disappear, and honestly, I wouldn’t blame you. I don’t know what I did--what I do--to keep you hanging around me.”

Steve brushed his hair away from his forehead and kissed the tear running down Bucky’s nose. “I spend a lot of time fighting off darkness--sickness, grief about my mother, how I feel about myself. Other people try to chase that away, or pretend it isn't there, but not you. You take me and the dark too, and love it all.” 

He turned to the last drawing. He’d drawn both of them in their usual places on the sofa. The page was dark with arms and hands reaching for Steve, ready to grab him and drag him away. They couldn’t though. The light radiating from Bucky illuminated the dark around them and kept the greedy hands and arms at bay. “You’re the light in the dark, Bucky. As long as you’re here, the darkness can’t have me. I belong to you.” 

“I'll always be here, then. Always.” Bucky let out a sob then and Steve pulled his head into his chest and held him hard and fierce. He felt Bucky’s arms tighten around him. 

They stayed that way, wrapped in stillness and light, until Steve heard a muffled laugh.

“What’s that about?”

“I was just thinking...when are we going to put our engagement announcement in the Times?”

“We’ll have to tell your parents first.” They both laughed at that idea, then Bucky’s face turned serious.

“One day, Steve. It’ll be ok one day. And I’ll be the first to city hall, sweetheart, with you hanging off my arm.”

“No way, honey.” Steve kissed him gently. “You’ll be hanging off mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had the best time writing this, and I can't thank you enough for reading it, liking it, and commenting on it. I'm working on another story as we speak, so hopefully I'll see you all soon!

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the piece and the chapter headings come from the song "Even The Darkness Has Arms" by the Barr Brothers. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! This is my first fic ever, and I'd love to hear any thoughts, reactions, suggestions you might have.


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